Alternate Ending to Devil's Trap
by pandorathexplora
Summary: Post Devil's Trap. One shot. Sam takes matters into his own hands, unlocking a power deep within him. My first fan fic ever! please review


Different ending to The Devil's Trap

The entity tightened its supernatural grip on Sam's body. An overwhelming pressure had seized each limb, pinning him against the wall with a seemingly effortless glance from his captor.

"You should know better than to play games with me, boys" the demon said, sighing.

"Do you hear me?" He drew in close to the older brother's crumpled body on the floor. Dean looked up with more annoyance than fear. This being was not going to let him or his brother go without the satisfaction of hearing him swallow his pride.

Dean wasn't going to grant that to him.

He stared up at the being that possessed his father's body, wincing in pain but nonetheless able to spout a few last one-liners. "Loud and clear, it's just…" a wave of pain swept through his chest as the entity intensified the invisible grip on his heart.

"It's just…what?" the demon inquired, already prepared for a snide remark on Dean's end.

"Just…please stop with over-used 'bad-guy' speak. It's so cli—

But before Dean could finish his sentence, the creature that was formerly his father had launched the brother into the air, causing Dean to hit the opposite wall with a loud crash. It was times and especially _pains_ like these that he regretted having inherited this trademark stubbornness from his dad.

"Stop hurting him!" a now infuriated Sam yelled from across the room. A sudden sharp pressure burrowed its way into his head. He felt as if the monster was digging its evil claws into his mind, probing for something long forgotten or, perhaps, something recognizable.

"Contrary to what your brother believes, I'm not the bad guy, SSSSammy" the intruder of his father's body hissed. The smile that has become a staple to the typical villain in so many stories now faded to a concerned frown. The demon approached Sam, and softened his voice to a near whisper.

"What's this?" the creature now looked curious at Sam, slowly tracing his finger against the forehead of the still suspended younger brother.

"Get your hands off me, you sick bastard!" However, Sam's voice didn't faze him or stifle the monster's growing concern.

"I swear to God, I'll kill y--" As the creature continued to trace his fingers along his forehead, Sam suddenly felt his eyes drooping…as if he'd just taken four dosages of Nyquil at once.

"Shhhh, Sam, be still. I'm not going to hurt you, just looking for some answers…son."

With the mention of this misuse of his father's identity, Sam's eyes shot open. He could feel the rage simmering inside him as his mind's eye tumbled over the idea that this creature had not only taken his mother, but now his father, as well.

"You're not my dad," he managed to say through clenched jaws. The anger boiled incessantly within him as the monster's face drew inches from his own. He could now see its eyes for what they were – glowing candles used to light the path to hell.

"Oh, but Luke," the monster's breath blew an acrid smell into Sam's nostrils. It seemed to smell not of sulfur or brimstone, but Death itself.

"I _am_ your father." Expecting the usual demonic laugh to erupt from the creature's body, Sam was instead met with an equally terrifying silence and another piercing drill into his head.

"Stop..p-p-please!" Sam managed to utter after what seemed like hours of suspended torture, but in reality had only been a few seconds. The creature only stood there with severity carved along his brow, never letting up his hold on Sam until he had found what he was looking for. Meanwhile, Dean had awoken from his unconscious state on the opposite side of the room and scanned the place for a weapon. Suddenly he remembered a vital source of weaponry – the gun! It still lay atop the boxes where the monster had so casually placed it.

As if sensing the growing consciousness from across the room, the darkly-clad monster arose from his chair to seek the source of this threat. Sam immediately felt relieved of his pained stupor as the monster turned his back on him and silently made his way across the wooden floor.

"Where are you, my boy?" the demon taunted. He had figured that Dean would be left unconscious for at least enough time for him to finish his work on Sam. However, the Winchester's had repeatedly proven in the past that they did not easily conform to expectation.

"I can hear your pulse rising," the demon coaxed, "as it should be."

Dean could indeed feel himself tense under the pressure. He was not worried so much for himself, but for the sake of his promise to the human spirit that dwelled within this demon's host body. He wouldn't let dad down, and he wasn't going to let Sam perish at the hands of some demonic pyromaniac. Crawling behind boxes, he had finally made it behind his target – the box that held the Colt. The monster was not far. He had to act fast.

Springing up in one fluid motion, he seized the legendary Colt from above the box and pointed it directly at his enemy.

Eighteen years he had waited for this moment. As the demon shot a fierce gaze into him through his father's glossy green eyes, Dean's finger trembled against the trigger with suspended longing. His heart raced, while his hands shook and eyes began to blur with the sweat that had formed above them.

Killing the demon meant killing dad, and Dean couldn't decide what he wanted more out of this climactic scene. In his hesitation, however, the demon quickly forced the gun from his grip and without ever touching him, threw Dean into an unnatural but familiar position.

Sam watched the scene as if in slow-motion. With a single movement from the monster's eye, Sam gazed in horror at Dean's face, contorted in undeniable pain as he was lifted against the wall and towards the ceiling. The simmering pain within Sam's head had returned and he fought against it to focus on the monster's pitiless strong hold on his older brother.

"No!" Sam shouted as he witnessed flashbacks of his girlfriend, Jess, upon the ceiling. He could not relive the torture of seeing another person he loved die, and he found his eyes darting back and forth across the room in search of something – anything – that could stop the creature. Still pinned against the wall, Sam struggled to move his head. Fortunately, he found the strength to shift it just enough to notice the Colt now lying haphazardly along the floor beneath two boxes. Dean's body continued to rise against the walls, his body thrashing helplessly against the demon as if kicking air could stop him.

"Come here, son" the demon called to Sam, now looking in his direction, "I want you to get a closer look at your brother, who's been such a nuisance in letting me get near you." In an instant, Sam felt his body being pulled toward the monster, still suspended midair, yet his feet were just low enough so that his toes dragged against the hardwood floor. The air seemed to be rushing out of him, asphyxiated not by fear but by the monster's increasing grip on his body. 

"Come! Witness an ancient ritual," the demon said, embracing Sam's helpless form in his arms.

"See how he has risen?" the demon seemed to find his words humorous in their blasphemy, but not before adding, "and he will rise again in glory!" finally letting out the passé laugh of villainy.

Sam, however, could not see Dean. As his limp body hung midair, Sam's eyes spun frantically in his head, reliving again and again the vision of his burning girlfriend, the love he once had, and the life he could have lived. However, just as quickly, another excruciating vision of a different woman now invaded his line of site. She hung above him, content with her fiery fate, yet her eyes burned a clear message into his memory – _You can stop this_. Sam's body convulsed at these images and sounds. Each vision seemed to explode into one another, causing an unbearable pain to shoot like fireworks throughout every vein and muscle.

At one point, he could sense the cold trickle of blood seep out from his nose, but he could do nothing to prevent it. He only hung beside the monster, doomed to witness this hell over and over again.

Strange how it only took two words, a heavenly feminine voice, to stop it.

_I'm sorry, _Sam heard the voice echo in his brain.

The fiery woman had called out to him, reached down to him, and now, finally, she embraced him. Closing his eyes, Sam understood and submit himself to her will. He felt an enormous wave of light wash over him, casting all the previous pain aside as it blanketed his entire mind.

Dean now lay horizontally suspended above the two figures on the floor. The entity had every molecule of his being under his power. Dean could not scream, but only endure the flutter of tiny pinpricks around his midsection. The room quelled with an unmistakably evil energy, and the only way to escape it would be the solace of a fast death. He could now feel the unholy tongues of fire begin to surge from around him.

"Please, God" Dean managed to whisper to himself. The monster's curiosity peaked at this sudden last ditch effort for mercy. He always enjoyed hearing his victims beg for it in their last seconds of life. In his silent way of working, the monster looked up and smiled in anticipation of Dean's last words.

"Please" he winced in pain, "save…" The demon salivated, anxious to hear it the words to come seemed to feed off Dean's final moments of agony.

"…save…"

he waited…

"Sam!"

His mother's cry had called out to him from beyond death, and suddenly Sam's eyes shot open with a newfound energy. He was still facing upwards, but this time the image of his mother had been replaced by another victim – his brother. In the torrent of his painful visions, he had forgotten where he was. But now, with his brother staring down at him with that similar look of terror in his eyes, Sam found himself within a whirlwind of memory – and power.

With an instinctive maneuver, Sam quickly turned his eyes to his captor and summoned upon an ancient anger – hate. Suddenly, the grip on his own body was released. Sam fell to the floor, but he soon focused his eyes on those of his father above him.

"So the boy's learned some new tricks, huh?" The monster seemed to gleam with an eerie, fatherly pride.

Ignoring the demon, Sam thrust his vision onto the ceiling where his brother lay, still in agony. Flames had begun to trace a circle around and close in on his body, although Dean did not scream. He seemed to be in a content, dream-like state and as Sam stared, he thought he could hear someone whispering over and over in his mind, _save Sam, save Sam, save Sam_.

Rising slowly to his feet, Sam held onto the energy that coursed behind his eyes. The demon did not lose his footing as the walls and floor beneath them seemed to quiver at this invisible force. Now made apparent to both the demon and to Sam, it was true that the monster had underestimated him.

"Alright, Keanu, calm down," the creature said as his once composed, smiling facial expression melted into apprehension. He now realized that his feelings had been right. He knew it when he had touched Sam, but now it was too late to tell him the truth. The boy would never listen to him now.

All at once, the fury that had been building up within Sam shot up towards the ceiling, and the fires around Dean's body were extinguished. Just as quickly, Dean's eyes widened as he returned to full awareness of his continued state on the ceiling.

"Shit."

He felt each limb slowly peeled from the surface, as if the supernatural glue no longer held him as tightly as before. Beginning with his head, then his legs, then finally his torso, the force that had previously embraced him now released him face first onto the floor below.

Without flinching, Sam followed the body of his falling older brother behind closed eyes and whispered a simple, single word – "Stop."

Upon opening them again, the younger brother was not surprised to see Dean hovering above a wooden crate, as if held by invisible strings. Dean did not accept his new position as easily as the first, where at least on the ceiling one could experience the illusion of resting upon a surface. Here, however, his eyes darted in frantic motions around him to unearth the source of his levitation.

Binding up the courage from perhaps an endless reserve, Dean shouted to the monster that he thought still held onto him.

"Alright, bastard, where are you? Not gonna just _leave me hanging_, are ya?" He smiled at his own wit. _I should write these things down_, he thought.

Soon, he found himself drifting slowly towards the floor. Upon his descent, he saw his younger brother for the first time, now standing with his back to him, increasingly focused on a shadowy figure in the corner.

As his eyes focused more clearly on the events in front of him, Dean could only muster one word from his seemingly endless pool of one-liners "Woah."

Where the demon had once pinned Sam, the body of his father now remained. It braced against the wall with a brutal tenacity, his feet dangling just as Sam's once did. This time, however, he was on the receiving end of what looked like unseen punches to the stomach and chest.

As Dean approached, he hesitated at the idea that the figure with his back to him might not be his brother at all, but another trick from the highly comedic realm of the supernatural. Thus, he stopped to speak before moving any farther.

"Sam?" Dean's inhaled slowly and repeated, "Sammy? You in there, buddy?"

No movement from Sam while the body of his father only groaned in increasing terror and, possibly, a ruptured organ or two. The idea that this demon was finally getting what he deserved satisfied Dean, however, this was still his father. Watching the figure of his dad squirm in agony superceded any feeling of happiness that Dean could have taken away with him.

As Dean inched his way toward his brother, he realized that Sam must be somehow controlling all of this. With all the drama that he had just experienced, Dean had failed to follow in his training and survey his surroundings. Now in this calmer setting, he realized that the containments of the darkened room were shaking. They seemed to pulse with a repressed energy, and he now knew the source. Ever since their time with Max Miller, Dean knew that Sam wasn't lying about the ability to move things. And now, he had to stop Sam from hurting their father.

"Hey, Sammy! Remember that time I was almost on fire? On the ceiling?"

Still, no response. Humor never seemed to work well with Sam in dire situations.

"Yeah, thought so." Dean's attention was suddenly pulled to the rafters, where several beams began to twitch and vibrate as if restless in their position. As usual, Dean knew they didn't have much time in here. Either from old age or Sam's newfound abilities, this place wasn't going to hold much longer.

"Yo Sammy boy!" Dean shouted, clapping his hands. "You gotta let dad go. He's not --"

"He's not dad," Sam stated in a monotone voice. Dean noticed that Sam had recited those words as if in a trance. In his experience, trance-like voices were induced by one of three things: drugs, booze, or a possession. In this case, Dean theorized that Sam was possessed not by demons or evil spirits, but by an unrelenting desire to avenge the deaths of his mom and girlfriend.

"Yeah, well, he's got his body." Dean shot a glance over at his dad's suspended body and took a deep breath. "And you're obviously stronger than it right now, so why not let it go and the demon might release dad from this…prison."

Dean took another deep breath, waiting for a positive response from his brother. The hypnotic Sam appeared to take his brother's words under consideration, and his stranglehold on his father slowly loosened. Sam's gaze on the creature never faded, his fists tightening at his sides from the twenty-three years of pain the monster had put him through. The demon's twisted facial expression now lessened into one of relief.

Instantly, Sam's psychic chokehold on the monster tightened as he screamed, "Twenty-three years, Dean. He killed too many people!" This time the rafters danced in unison with the darkened walls around them, bowing inward and outward, ready to snap at any second.

"Sam, stop, please!" Dean pleaded, "Don't do this!" Noticing the room cracking around him, he continued in his entreaty, "Sam, we need to leave now!"

The demon's eyes had now lost their vibrant yellow color, fading into the familiar brown tint of John Winchester. Sam's powerful fury subsided instantly as he no longer stared into the eyes of a demon, but the windows into what it held captive beneath.

"Sam," a familiar voice greeted Sam's wide-eyed stares. "It's me, Sammy. Just kill me, now. Grab the gun," and through clenched teeth, his dad screamed, "Kill this monster while I still have him in me!" The younger brother released his mind's firm grip on his father's body.

"I can't, Dad" Sam whimpered, his head now swallowed up by a pounding he hadn't previously felt. Perhaps the adrenaline, or whatever it was that had energized him, was finally diminishing within him. Sam felt his knees weaken as his body crumpled to the floor next to the Colt his father had so avidly sought. He managed to hold himself in a kneeling position with his head bowed in exhaustion, eyeing the gun, before the father that stood before him.

Grasping a beam beside him, John Winchester forced the demon to stay trapped within him, struggling with all his might to keep him back while he stood, towering over his now meek little boy.

Dean watched as his brother fell in a tired heap, but turned his attention to a ceiling that was now too broken to maintain itself on its own. Although still on the floor, Sam's energy remained pulsating all around them. Dean knew that he couldn't run the risk of Sam killing dad, (though Dean almost had) and the building couldn't fall with them still in it. He had no choice, but to resolve to the only solution that Dean knew and understood best – he would knock Sam out as quickly as possible. Hopefully, the demon would see that as his chance to escape dad's body and all would be saved…for now.

Glancing around, Dean picked up a wooden beam that had fallen beside him. He crept upon the scene as his brother knelt there in fear and fatigue, while the figure of his father still struggled to retain the demonic possession.

_The things I do for this family_, Dean thought to himself. Careful to keep himself out of his father's line of sight, he walked half-crouched towards his brother, his fingers clutching the beam so hard he felt the wood splinter and pierce his skin.

Ten feet…five feet…just a little closer…

Blood trickled down his right hand and onto the beam itself.

Just then, the eyes of the demon returned with John Winchester no longer able to hold his power over his own body. Sam looked up in terror at the face of his once former father. Although now, his face eased the tension it once displayed, and a sinister smile crept across it as it bowed its head to admire the now weakened Sam.

"I can't, dad" Sam repeated this haunting mantra now though he knew his words would go unheard by his real father, "I can't."

With a firm tenderness that only a father could give, the monster brought his hand down to cradle the young boy's head. The cold sweat clung to his palm and the demon closed his eyes simultaneously with Sam's own as he whispered, "Sam, Saaaam" into his ear, "I _killed_ your father."

Sam suddenly winced with the vision of the beam in his brother's hands. Just as Dean was about to attack, Sam felt the familiar energy course through his body, up to his mind, and forced the beam to fly from Dean's fingers like an arrow straight into the door behind them. Instantaneously, the Colt that had rested so quietly beside his younger brother's body rose into Sam's hand as if merely blown by the wind. In one swift movement, Sam fired the gun directly between the demon's eyes.

The shrill, high-pitched scream was like nothing the boys had ever heard. The brothers collapsed beneath the force of the demon leaving their father's body, rising into the air and taking a vile, winged-form before finally vanishing. The room no longer shuddered nor threatened impending collapse. All was quiet on the supernatural front, except for Sam's heavy breathing.

"He's gone. My dad's gone," Sam said in the monotone voice that Dean dreaded. The demon's reign had ended with the gun's ability to destroy anything – be it natural or supernatural – in this world. Nevertheless, Dean had not yet allowed the fact of his father's sacrifice to seep in. He had become too concerned with another truth that resounded in Sam's choice of words, which didn't end a nightmare but began a new one.

Sam hadn't said our, but _my dad_.


End file.
